


Irregular

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Enemies, Hate Sex, Inspired by Game of Thrones, M/M, Mild Painplay, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 20:49:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16025720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hating each other won't stop them from using each other for pleasure.





	Irregular

It always started with a simple request. Nothing more than a summons up to his room, a request, a voice beckoning him to come in so they could further discuss that which didn’t need to be said. Sicheng knew what would happen if he went. He knew that in the end, it would come down to the door shutting behind him as he strolled into the white walled trap. His eyes always raised, lips always adorning a know-it-all smile while hands laid limply at his sides. A small flicker of flames amid a vast forest.

It never caught him off guard when the light mahogany haired man would appear to his side, setting down a book that rambled on about medical finds in plants. He would only glance at the other, uncaring and indifferent before he looked around the prison that held the spoilt prince.

Jars holding plants of remarkable beauty…books sprawled out here and there with splashes of light pastel colored flowers against bleached walls. He never cared too much for nature, but seeing some remote traces of colors always brought up a comment or two.

“Still nurturing those gardening skills?”

Jungwoo glanced to the flowers lazily, frowning before looking back at the blonde. Jungwoo reached out a hand, running it through blonde locks before stepping closer towards the vixen. The hand cupped the side of Sicheng’s face gently at first before fingers began to grip into honey skin.

Sicheng’s eyes wavered slightly, but stayed heavenward as he murmured, “Can’t you fuck somebody else today?”

A glint of embers sparking from the man’s eyes glazed with impatience. It was always just a game to Jungwoo. A sick twisted game where he tried to toy with the only trace of broken feeling they possessed.

His hand trailed down, catching Sicheng’s coat zipper as if by ‘accident’, A slight smirk gracing the younger's lips as he moved forward, advancing over the blonde. Sicheng’s frown deepened as the silence was consumed.

 _Ziiiiiiiiiiip_.

Fire’s last breath, nature’s tenure.

Sicheng raised both hands, gloved skin pushing back on Jungwoo’s chest. The man raised a brow, “Are you suddenly fearing that your virtue is in danger?” He smiled cockily.

“I have other things I need to get done.” Sicheng's hands pressed more firmly against the younger’s chest.

“You’re a horrible liar.”

It always began with a slow introduction.

A tangle of few words caught between aching tension begging to be relieved through necessary force.

Sicheng knew what he was in for from the start. Although, the touches were distinctly more fierce this time. The anger more noticeable when Jungwoo threw him against the wall and gripped his wrists until there was no circulation. His eyes could only stare back at the perpetrator, seemingly uncaring on the outside.

Jungwoo’s hands trailed over the thin man’s shoulders, eyes hazed in calculation and admiration as glowing eyes looked to him and then to the invading hand with disdain. The circumstances of their relationship now was so different. He'd grown to feel seething bitterness roll in his gut when Jungwoo came to mind; the way his voice would grow so soft but yet deeply dominant with conceited notions poisoning every word. The smell of fresh cut flowers in spring that filled his nostrils while full lips brushed against the expanse of skin on his neck before biting down teasingly.

“I fucking hate you.”

Jungwoo stopped his assault for a moment, brilliant eyes glaring to the blonde. He smiled, lifting the other’s chin, “Tell me, how does hate feel?”

_Delicious._

_Powerful._

_Consuming._

Sicheng made no reply, eyes intense and challenging as lips found his again. Only then did he close his lids, surrendering any decency he acquired all for the moment. Only he would gain from this. Only his needs would be quenched. Jungwoo was a tool, a catalyst to seize a momentary escape.

Tongues soon met, hands growing more and more desperate as articles of clothing fell to the ground in silence. The world was spinning around them in a mix of nauseating white and warm splashes of light colors thrown like scattered confetti. Sicheng shrugged off his jacket, fingers entwining in soft hair as he crushed their mouths together hungrily. Jungwoo’s arms looped around the small of his back, fingers breaking into white flesh.

Sicheng pulled away from the kiss abruptly, breaths fleeting as blood rushed from his head to pool in the pits of his stomach. He glowered at Jungwoo with dazed lust, hating and loving the sensations that ran through his thin physique. “Just hurry up…”

He rather it be rough and quick than prolonged and heated.

Jungwoo smirked, chuckling darkly. The laugh sent delightful shivers down Sicheng’s spine, fingers involuntarily twitching he softly murmured, “Don’t be so hasty.”

The best way of torture was to do it slow and precise. Jungwoo had the patience to do just that, fingers drifting over Sicheng’s body both forcefully and with admiration. Not admiring to Sicheng, but instead to what they were.

Sicheng’s body met the bed with a thud, his breathing fast and a hint of a laugh echoing in the room as he watched Jungwoo with amusement.

Clothes off.

Eyes on fire.

The blonde found himself between the mattress and Jungwoo’s bare skin, tongues intertwining as their hands gripped and tore at one another. Blood was always a result of their trysts.

Fingers moved in and out of Sicheng, allowing for all the wounds to be pressed into Jungwoo’s back. Sicheng couldn’t help but to chuckle between moans as he bit and clawed at the prince, eyes burning with hunger and mischief.

Jungwoo only took it for so long before he bit at Sicheng’s lip, opening the skin and causing blood to gush out. Sometimes he would punch the blonde and leave bruises, other times he’d fuck Sicheng so hard that it would be difficult to walk for a day or two.

In return, Jungwoo received numerous burns, bite marks, and deep long scratches. They were never easy on one another, which was probably why both secretly enjoyed it so much and greedily wanted more and more.

The best and worst part was always the fight for dominance. Jungwoo made sure Sicheng was pinned and uncomfortable, stretching Sicheng’s legs out to their limits as he fucked Sicheng into the mattress.

Sicheng‘s body shivered as he clutched the blankets, his eyes narrowed in pain, his lips parted to try and suck in life-giving oxygen as if it could bring him any comfort. Jungwoo moved in and out of Sicheng’s thin, sweating form with no mercy. Jungwoo had so much power and mirth; each thrust as potent, if not more, than the last.

Sicheng writhed underneath the man who showed the world he was innocent but was everything but, trying his best to push away but yet bring him closer to get the activity done sooner. He provoked him, cursed at him; he called him a disgusting names.

And it only made for more heat.

_More sweat._

_More skin._

_More friction._

And as fast as it had started, it would end just as abruptly. A gasp, perhaps even a few string of incoherent words, and a shudder as the bed stopped moving and the only sound heard was the slowing of once rapid breaths.

The blonde would let Jungwoo slump on top of him sometimes, or vice versa if he ever got the chance to be the one running the show. But only for a few moments before Jungwoo got disgusted with the whole affair and would push the other off, sitting up as his fists promised some more ‘love bruises‘.

Sicheng sat up on the other side of the bed, feet almost reaching the ground as he kept his eyes to the floor.

Jungwoo was murmuring some more of his incoherencies, most likely concerning his annoyance with the ongoing sensation of never really feeling the full affects of the ‘afterglow’. Sicheng couldn't care less. 

But only for a while.

Sicheng rubbed at the bruises on his thigh as an arm draped around his shoulder and lips bit down on his neck in a twisted kiss.

“next time should we use wax?”

Sicheng shivered, but grinned nonetheless, “Do explain."

**Author's Note:**

> support nct127.


End file.
